


Footsteps in the Forest

by california_112



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, New Years party, child abuse mention, mini-case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 17:58:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17248838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/california_112/pseuds/california_112
Summary: "I know something's happened, John, I just know it!"Mrs Smithson turned her back on the window to face her husband, eyes imploring him to listen to her."Calm down Marie, I'm sure she's just being a bit too careful with the snow." John replied, putting his arm around his wife. "Adie's better to be safe than sorry, with all this slush around."-or-A young girl goes missing on New Years Eve, and Morse is determined to find her, at any cost.ABSOLUTELY 0% SPOILERS FOR ANYTHING





	Footsteps in the Forest

Finally, after almost two weeks of incessant snowfall, a pause had come. Temperatures remained around freezing, but no snow was being added to the thick white blanket, which suited the residents of Oxford down to the ground, quite literally. Paths cleared and salted in the morning didn't disappear again by noon, and cleared and gritted roads remained passable for traffic. Unfortunately, these conditions also made for drifts of dirty slush and pools of meltwater in the busier areas, and it was these that a young girl carefully noted as she opened the door of the church hall, still doing up her new blue wool jacket.

          "Adeline, dear, is this your cap?"

The girl turned and saw a large woman in a Girlguiding uniform moving towards her through a sea of Christmas decorations and tinsel-wielding small children, a small brown beret in hand.

          "Sorry, Brown Owl." Adeline said, pulling the cap over her straight, shoulder-length brown hair.

          "Do your scarf up properly." the woman fussed with the red and white wool as Adeline straightened her Brownie uniform. "You're sure you can get home alright?"

          "It's only a few minutes away, Brown Owl, and I've gone that way so many times before." Adeline smiled, and brushed tinsel off her coat. "And, I'm ten now." She added proudly.

          "I know, dear. Well, be careful." the leader eyed the almost silent street with distrust, watching the girl until she disappeared around a corner.

Adeline avoided as many puddles as she could as she skipped home from the church hall, and they thinned out as she got further from the main road. Soon she was passing the flake-frosted forest, crunching through the barely-trodden snow lining the road, and with five minutes until her mother expected her home. Speeding up a little, she suddenly lost her footing, slipped, and landed hard on the layer of ice concealed beneath the snow. She was picking herself up when she heard a voice behind her, a male voice, and one she didn't recognise.

          "You alright there, Adie?"

* * *

          "I know something's happened, John, I just know it!"

Mrs Smithson turned her back on the window to face her husband, eyes imploring him to listen to her.

          "Calm down Marie, I'm sure she's just being a bit too careful with the snow." John replied, putting his arm around his wife. "Adie's better to be safe than sorry, with all this slush around."

          "But she said she'd be home in time for lunch, and that was twenty minutes ago."

A single tear leaked from her eye, and her husband quickly wiped it away caringly.

          "If she's not here in ten minutes, then I'll start to worry." he said. "I'm sure she's fine, darling."

Marie sniffed, and nodded. "You're right, it's just me being silly. Just…silly, that's all." Nervously, she locked and unlocked her fingers, until they finally scrabbled into her bag for a cigarette. Going back to the window, her eyes fixed on the gap in the hedge, and never left it.

* * *

Cowley police station in the winter months was not a good place to work. As the building was so old, doors never fit their frames: swollen and sticky or shrunken and draughty. Windows rattled each time an icy breeze flowed past, the heating had given up the ghost in the first week of November. The skeletal contingent of desk officers required to be in this New Year's Eve all wore extra jumpers and coats, as well as hat, scarf and gloves wherever possible, and gathered around the office heater like moths around a flame. All of them, that was, except DC Morse. Alone in the corner, he sat at his desk, wearing only his thin suit jacket for warmth, slowly tapping away on his typewriter, and slightly wishing he'd bought some gloves. Forms rolled in, forms rolled out, and gradually his in-tray pile lessened, and his filing pile grew; sheets of thin paper fluttering in the draught, in constant danger of being blown away. Whilst his colleagues joked and drank hot coffee in the corner, he did their paperwork for them, having nothing else to do. Only one call had come in that day, and it had been a wrong number, so work was slow for the socially awkward constable. He saw that doing the other's work whilst they skived off was a form of bullying, but knew that there was nothing that he could really do about it, with most of the senior officers either on their side or on leave. Just as he was rolling the next form in, the door opened, and he struggled to save his pile of papers.

          "They'll be using this place as the morgue next." PC Strange commented as he entered the room, bundled up in two jumpers and a coat.

Ignoring the heater, he made his way to Morse's desk. "Done with your paperwork yet, matey?"

          "Yes, mine, Gibson's and Able's, and now I'm working on-"

          "Why aren't they doing that?" Strange asked, sounding defensive. "You haven't been near the heater all morning, have you?"

          "It's only ten," Morse replied sulkily, "I'll get a chance late-"

He was interrupted by his desk telephone ringing, which made both officers jump. Morse picked it up with slightly numb fingers.

          "Morse."

          "Report just in, " said the constable on the other end of the line, "missing child out near Kennington, on Bagley Wood Road. Adeline Smithson."

          "I'll head over." replacing the receiver, he looked up to see Strange looking at him quizzically. "Missing child near Bagley Wood, I'll investigate."

Strange watched as he put on his coat and scarf. "Need someone to come with you?"

          "No, I'll be fine." Morse replied, not wanting to drag out any more people than was necessary. "I'll call once I've sorted it out, she probably just hiding in the shed."

          "Ok matey, see you later then." Strange watched Morse out of the room, then went over to the group around the heater. "Don't you lot know there's paperwork to be done by the end of the year?"

          "Morse is doing it," one of them replied carelessly, not looking around, "and we'd rather keep warm."

          "Well, Morse has had to attend a call, and there's still paperwork to be done, so get a move on." Strange said.

          "He'll be back, he can do it then." another replied with a condescending smile, rubbing their hands together. "Run along now, _constable_."

Defeated and annoyed, Strange went back to his desk, taking some of the paperwork with him, and sat by his phone. He was hardly surprised at the outcome, as most of the men were senior to him, but at least he'd tried to stick up for his friend.

* * *

The Smithson house was quite a large building, set off the road at the end of a cul-de-sac. It was surrounded on two sides by Bagley wood, and looked almost like a fairy tale cottage with the snow heavy on the roof and all the trees leafless yet bejewelled by frosty spider webs. Morse parked the Jag at the front, and knocked. It was answered almost immediately by a man, looking stressed and on the verge of tears. Morse felt for his warrant card and started to introduce himself.

          "Mr Smithson, I'm Detective Constable-"

          "You're from the police?" Mr Smithson interrupted, opening the door a little wider.

          "Yes Mr Smithson. I presume you are Mr Smithson, father of Adeline Smithson?"

          "Yes, yes I am." he gestured for Morse to come inside. "My wife is just in the sitting room."

Once the three of them were sat down, Morse started questioning them.

          "You reported your daughter missing at…about ten o'clock this morning. How long had she been missing then?"

          "Half an hour." Mrs Smithson replied. "She's been missing almost an hour now, and-" she put her face in her hands.

Morse raised his eyebrows fractionally. Half an hour was not really long enough to make this a missing persons case; but then, she was just a young girl.

          "Where was she- walking?- from?" Morse asked, pen poised

          "Only the church, she was at Brownies." Mr Smithson replied. "There's going to be a New Year's do there later, and they were helping to decorate the hall."

          "How far away is the church?"

          "Only about ten minutes, fifteen if you walk slowly."

Morse noted this down. "Have you been out to look for her?"

          "We looked all around the garden, but nowhere else, and we phoned Brown Owl at Brownies."

          "Brown Owl?" Morse looked up, confused.

          "The Brownie leader, she's called Mrs Patterson really. A most kind lady." Mrs Smithson wiped her eyes. "She said that she watched Adie turn the corner and then went back inside, at about twenty past nine."

          "That's the last anyone's seen of her, I take it." Mrs Smithson nodded silently. "Could you describe her for me?" Morse asked, going through the routine questions.

          "She's ten years old, and about- four foot, maybe?-, and shoulder length brown hair, and- I've got a photo, if that would be helpful."

          "Very, thank you."

Mr Smithson got up and went to the back of the room, and Morse turned to Mrs Smithson. "What is Adeline likely to be wearing?"

          "Her Brownie dress, and a new coat she got for her birthday." Mrs Smithson replied. "That's blue, and the dress is brown. She also had,- didn't she have her cap, John?"

          "Yes, she grabbed it just before she left."

More scribbling in Morse's notebook. He had been initially thinking that the girl might just be late home from this Brownies group, be he was beginning to suspect that something really had happened to her.

          "Can you think of anyone who might want to harm Adeline?" He asked, changing tack slightly.

          "Nobody! Oh, except her father." Mrs Smithson replied.

Morse raised his eyebrows at Mr Smithson. "We adopted Adeline," he explained, "because she was taken away from her birth father by social services. He...hit her."

          "And where is he now, do you know?"

          "We're not sure where he lives, but we do see him around here occasionally. Adie knows she's adopted, but we haven't told her who her real father is."

Morse thought through the facts. The daughter had been walking home from church, alone, and had failed to arrive home. Her abusive biological father was sometimes seen in the area, and probably wanted his daughter back. It was time to call out a search, and get this girl found. He turned back to the parents.

          "What's Adeline's route home from the church?"

* * *

As DI Thursday had been given another two days holiday over New Year’s, it was Detective Inspector Mayflower who took charge of the search. Morse had called it in from the Smithson's house to Strange, who had passed it on to the Inspector, and now the two of them were among the fifteen officers put out to search. Spread along Adeline's short route home, down Bagley Wood Road and then a couple of private lanes, it only took the cold constables half an hour of making house calls and checking bushes to pull up the first piece of evidence: a scarf. It was bought by Morse's freezing hands to DI Mayflower, waiting in his heated car, who rolled down the window to speak to him, not getting out.

          "Is this it, is it?" he asked in his Scottish accent, looking it over. "All you've found in half an hour?"

          "We've been going slowly because of the snow, sir." Morse explained. "It matches the description of the scarf Adeline was said to be wearing, though."

Mayflower sighed, and started to fold the scarf, when suddenly, his finger came away with a patch of red on it. Morse involuntarily took half a step backwards, hands jumping up with a small gasp. The DI carefully placed the scarf in a waiting evidence bag, then wiped his hand on a tissue. When he next spoke, his voice had a small wobble in it.

          "Constable, tell the parents what we've found." he said, getting out of the car. "Is that Doctor Bryn still hanging around?"

          "DeBryn, sir, and yes."

          "I don't care what his name is, get him to tell me what that stain on the scarf is." Mayflower said curtly.

          "But he's a pathologist-"

          "He should still have the medical skills required to tell me whether this is a child's blood or not!" Mayflower was tight-lipped, almost shouting, and Morse decided not to pursue it.

Just as he started to move away, Mayflower looked up from where he was using the car radio and called to him. "Where did you find the thing?"

          "Where the woods meet the road at the bend, sir. Constable Green will be able to show you exactly."

The Inspector nodded, and Morse continued on to where Doctor DeBryn was sitting in his car. The pathologist got out when he saw him approaching, and hailed him from a distance.

          "Morse, for me? Nothing bad, I hope?"

          "Detective Inspector Mayflower just wants to know if this is blood or not." Morse said, holding up the bag so the Doctor could see the stain, but he couldn't.

          "Shouldn't it be going off to the lab?" DeBryn asked, taking his bag out the back seat.

          "Mayflower wants quick results," Morse replied, handing the scarf over, "this should be over by the end of the year."

          "But with what conclusion?" DeBryn rooted around in his bag, looking for the necessary chemicals. "Oh, don't wait for me, this could be a while." he said.

          "I'll tell Mayflower." Morse said, and made his way back.

When he arrived, he joined the crowd of officers surrounding Mayflower, who was giving out orders.

          "Constable Green will lead you to where the scarf was found, and then you spread out in pairs to search. If anyone finds anything, send one- oh, you all know the drill. Just get the child found. Be back here within half an hour."

The crowd divided itself into pairs until Morse was left alone, the fifteenth constable. Setting out into the forest, hands deep in pockets and face buried in his scarf, he scanned the snowy ground looking for anything that might lead to Adeline, or just _anything_. But the snowy ground was devoid of any mark or scratch, not even a twig. His footsteps alone carved a path through the silent forest, occasionally turning whenever he saw something that looked promising. However, nothing turned out to be anything useful, and he soon realised that it was becoming dark. At that moment another realisation hit him, one that swept a wave of agitation through him. He'd wandered into Bagley Wood alone, and didn't know the way out.

* * *

After Morse left, DeBryn quickly set up his kit and got to work on the scarf. It took him a little over fifteen minutes, without the proper lab equipment, to ascertain that it wasn't human blood. It wasn't blood at all, but red icing, and DeBryn found this both relieving and slightly humorous. Some cake decoration had had them all worried, and the child hadn't been attacked, not just then anyway. Probably she was just lost in the woods. DeBryn delivered his results to Inspector Mayflower.

          "Nothing to be worried about then."

          "Well, there'll be some trouble washing it out of the scarf, but-"

          "Anything serious?" Mayflower but across harshly.

          "No." DeBryn said tightly. "Just a little humour, Inspector, god knows we need it."

Mayflower shook his head almost imperceptibly, and stared ahead. "You can go now, Doctor, I doubt you'll be needed."

          "But Inspector, what if-"

          "Then stay if you bloody like!" Mayflower snapped, and climbed into his car, slamming the door.

Knowing the he might well be needed, DeBryn retired to his car, watching the treeline for the returning constables. Slowly, the figures emerged from the trees, two at a time, giving their short reports to Mayflower through his car window then disappearing. By the shaking heads, DeBryn gathered that they hadn't found her, and that the search would continue either later or tomorrow, DeBryn couldn't tell which. After DeBryn counted six pairs return, he got out and collared Strange just as he was leaving.

          "You didn't find her?"

          "No trace," the constable replied, rubbing his gloved hands together, "apparently nobody saw anything. It's getting dark though, so the Inspector's calling off the search until tomorrow."

          "Seen Morse anywhere?" DeBryn asked, looking around Strange's shoulder.

          "No, he went in alone." Strange replied casually.

DeBryn's head snapped up. "And you let him, knowing his record?"

          "He said he'd be fine!" Strange objected.

DeBryn raised his eyebrows and sighed in disbelief. Morse saying he was going to be fine rang about as true as a broken glass. One that had been run over several times. By a lorry.

          "Well, I'll wait for him to come out." DeBryn said, looking at where the sun was already touching the tops of the trees.

Strange left, the last pair came and went, and eventually Mayflower drove off home, but still DeBryn sat in his car, eyes trained on the edge of the forest. It was when he felt his eyes falling shut that he realised he really should go and look for his friend. But first, he needed to not make Morse's cereal mistake, and tell someone what he was doing. At a nearby phone box, he dialled through to Cowley station.

          "This is Doctor DeBryn, is PC Strange there?"

          "No, he's out supervising a New Year's celebration."

          "Inspector Mayflower?"

          "Gone home."

          "Inspector Thursday?" He was getting desperate.

          "On leave, he'll be back in on the second."

          "Well, I'll leave a message for whoever of those three comes in first." DeBryn said. "Tell them that Morse is lost in Bagley wood, and I've gone in after him. I've gone in where the search for Adeline Smithson was going on earlier."

          "Will do." the constable replied, and DeBryn ended the call.

Grabbing his spare coat, torch, and pocket first aid kit, because he was never off the job with Morse around, he made his way into the forest just as the sky began to turn yellow. The shadows of the trees became longer and longer as the sun sunk, and DeBryn used the torch to follow Morse's footsteps between the conifers. At first they went straight, but soon they started to wander, where the young policeman had either seen features of interest or started to feel the cold. Every few steps, DeBryn called Morse's name, and then listened. Soon the forest was almost completely dark, and trees loomed ahead, their branches seeming to reach out for him. Turning up his collar, he kept his wits about him and moved on. However, he realised quite quickly what a foolish idea this had been. One man going into a forest alone to look for a man who was also in the forest alone, and they were both wandering aimlessly. Morse was definitely lost, and he almost definitely was. Looking around, he saw only blackness, and the occasional tree like a ghost in the gloom. That, and- a light? The houses again? With any luck he'd found his way out, and he could call for more help. Moving towards it as quickly as safety permitted, he was soon to be disappointed. It wasn't the houses, it wasn't even Morse. It was a small cabin, looking mostly crumbling, but for one partially intact room. Partially was the operative word: it only counted as a room as it had more than three walls and a suggestion of a roof, and not much else. Eager to get anywhere that didn't have gusts of icy wind blowing through it, he hastily opened the door and stepped in, revelling in the light. It was just a simple few candles, but they cast a warm glow around the space, illuminating-

          "Adeline?"

The girl turned to face him, her thin frame shaking. She sat on the floor, still in just her Brownie uniform and coat, and stared at him wide eyed.

          "Who are you?"

          "I'm Max," DeBryn introduced himself, sinking onto his heels to be on her level, "and I'm a doctor. How did you get here, Adeline?"

She didn't answer, instead just staring at him. "Here, take my coat." he offered, and she took it tentatively, pulling it around her shoulders. As she did so her own jacket sleeve fell back, exposing her wrist. Where the rest of her skin was paper-white from cold, there were lines there which showed up red, bruised. DeBryn reached out for the injury, but she pulled away.

          "It's all right, I'm a doctor." he said, trying to be reassuring.

          "I'm fine." she said, sounding very small, and pulling the cuff back down.

          "That bruise does look rather bad," he said, reaching out again, "how did you get it? Adeline?"

But the girl wasn't looking at him anymore, she was looking over his shoulder with a scared expression. With a slight feeling of dread, DeBryn turned to follow her gaze. This sight that met him was of a seemingly very tall man, who looked on first impressions to be very strong. Even though the hut was freezing, he wore only a shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing his tattoo covered arms. The expression on his face was not endearing.

          "Get away from her." he said, and his voice was low and gravelly.

          "What do you want with her?" DeBryn asked, and saw the girl scrunch her eyes shut.

          "She's my daughter." the man said. "Stupid socials took her away from me, put her with that poncy lot, but she's mine, aren't you Adie." he looked to his daughter with a leering grin, and she let out a small squeak, leaning away. "Come on, you're not scared of your old dad, are you?"

He reached out a hand towards her, but DeBryn put himself between the girl and her father. "I'm not sure she wants you to do that." eyeing his fingers, he suddenly knew where the bruise had come from. "You did that to her!"

          "She wouldn't move," he argued, "and I couldn't let her go back to those cruel people."

          "I think you might be the cruel one here." DeBryn retorted, angry at what this man had done.

          "I'm a good fa-"

At that point the door opened, and along with a gust of wind, a figure stumbled in, clinging heavily to the wall for support as the door banged shut. Their beige coat collar turned up, and dark russet hair crusted with snow, it took DeBryn a moment to see who it was.

          "Morse?"

Hearing his name, Morse looked up, and DeBryn instantly saw that something was very wrong with him. He was shivering wildly, and seemed to be having trouble focusing on the doctor, even though he was only a couple of feet away. DeBryn suddenly found himself torn between who to help: Adeline or Morse. It was the father who made the decision in the end.

          "She's my kid, and I'm going to have her back." he growled, and took a step forward.

It was times like this when DeBryn lamented his short stature. Facing up to this man was definitely not a good idea, but to step aside and let him get to the child? Unthinkable. Suddenly, Morse spoke up.

          "Leave her alone." he said, voice almost imperceptibly slurred. "She was taken away from you for a reason, Mr Hadley."

          "I was looking after her fine!" Hadley countered. "She went to school, got good grades,-"

          "And got a beating if she didn't!" Morse retorted. "You were brutish to her, and still are by that bruise on her wrist!"

          "You keep out of this." the father spat at Morse, balling his hand into a fist. "This is between me and the good _doctor_ here. Or rather, the doctor is between me and my kid."

Seeing what was about to happen, Morse pushed away from the wall and staggered into DeBryn, pushing him out of the line of fire, but the punch had already been thrown. Mr Hadley's fist connected with the side of Morse's head, and there was a momentary look of surprise before he fell, twisting to land on his front. He didn't move. The colour drained from DeBryn's face, so appalled was he by the blatant violence towards his friend, and knelt next to Morse; Thankfully, he was still breathing. But then, he remembered the situation he had been pushed him out of, and looked up as Adeline squealed and tried to flinch away from her father's touch.

          "Get off me!"

          "Come on, you little-"

          "Unhand her!" DeBryn was back next to them, forcing himself between Adeline and her father.

Mr Hadley still had one hand on Adeline, but his other now moved to DeBryn's neck. Fingers tightening, the doctor struggled to pull them away, aware that he would soon run out of oxygen unless someone stopped the father's progress. As his vision began to blur at the edges, he saw out the corner of his eye the door to the hut open, and several figures rush in, shouting something he couldn't quite understand. The fingers released, and he staggered back, weak, clawing to loosen his bowtie, until he reached a wall and slipped down it. As he regained his sight, he saw Constable Strange kneeling in front of him.

          "You alright, doctor?"

DeBryn coughed a couple of times. "Yes, I think so. I'm not sure about Morse, though," he said, spotting again where the DC lay, still out cold, "he took a punch to the head from Mr Hadley here, and I also suspect he was out in the woodland for quite a while before joining me. I'll take a look at him."

          "I understand your concern, but-"

          "Do you have any other doctors with you?" DeBryn demanded.

Strange was silent. "I thought not." the doctor finished, and knelt next to Morse. After rolling him onto his back, he saw that he was just starting to come around, blinking even in the low light of the hut. DeBryn shook his shoulder gently.

          "Morse?" he asked in a slightly reproving tone. "Can you say something for me?"

          "Mmm…" Morse mumbled, eyes struggling to focus on DeBryn's face. "Max?"

          "Yes, once again." DeBryn said, helping him to sit up. "How's the head?"

          "Please, don't mention it." Morse mumbled, head buried in his arms.

Whilst Morse worked through his splitting skull, DeBryn checked the area around where he'd been hit. "Nothing broken," he commented, "you've probably got a slight concussion though, that'll have a few effects, dizziness mostly. I would stay away from hard surfaces, if I were you."

          "I'm feeling fine now," Morse said, but as soon as he tried to push himself up his eyes flew shut, and he started to tip over, DeBryn only just managing to catch him.

But, headstrong as always, he batted away the Doctor's hands and leant heavily on the wall, worrying DeBryn about how strong the tumbledown partition was. Practically climbing up it, he looked about to fall down again, but somehow managed to stay upright. DeBryn motioned to Strange, who came over and escorted a weakly protesting Morse to a waiting ambulance, which DeBryn wished would take him off to hospital. Wishing was all he was going to get though; Morse had escaped enough ambulances to date. Looking around properly for the first time, DeBryn saw that five officers had entered, of which two were restraining Mr Hadley, one WPC was comforting Adeline, who looked to be in shock, and one was Strange, who had just left. The last was-

          "Inspector Mayflower!" DeBryn said, eyebrows raised. "Finally decided to join me, did you?"

The Inspector looked a little sheepish. "Strange got your message, and called me out. Is that constable- Morse?- alright?"

          "He'll live, this time." DeBryn replied, dusting off his coat. "Maybe next time, Inspector, it wouldn't harm you to listen to voiced concerns. If he hadn't got in here when he did, I could have had one more customer before the end of the year."

Without waiting for a reply, the doctor swept past him and out into the forest, following the piece of string wound around trees and bushes, he reached the road, where two ambulances and three police cars waited close to the forest edge. In the background his own car, with a familiar figure leaning against the bonnet. They called to him just as he passed from the ring of blue flashing police light into the darkness of the rest of the road.

          "Could I trouble you for a lift?" It was Morse.

          "Could I trouble _you_ to look after your health for once?" DeBryn said, and opened the passenger door. "Why aren't you going to hospital?"

          "I'm due at the Thursday's New Year's Eve party in…an hour," Morse replied as he closed the door, "and I haven't got a bottle yet."

          "Where shall I drop you?"

          "Wherever's easiest for you." Morse said as they pulled away.

          "With you in your condition, everywhere is easiest for me." DeBryn replied. "As it would happen, I'm going to the Thursday's party as well, so I'll drop you back at your flat and pick you up around eleven, alright?"

* * *

Around quarter past eleven, the Thursday's house was packed. Beside many relatives and family friends, Sam and Joan had given open invitations to their friends, and Thursday had invited many people from the station. Constant music flowed from the radio, where a midnight countdown would be held when the time came. Morse hovered in the kitchen, pouring drinks to anyone who asked and shuffling around helping when Mrs Thursday came in for another plate of food to put out. At half past, DI Thursday called out to the house.

          "There'll be fireworks in the garden now, if anyone wants to watch…"

A general cheer went up, and everyone crowded into the garden, drinks in hand. Morse found himself pushed to the side, and lost for friendly faces, shuffled over to DeBryn. He was promptly quizzed.

          "How's the head?" the doctor asked. "Not having too much to drink, I hope?"

          "Not having anything to drink," Morse replied, "I'm on shift tomorrow."

DeBryn nodded sympathetically, and then both of their attentions were turned to the fireworks. Thursday was moving along a short row of rockets lighting long tailing fuses, but he had to try twice on the last one. Standing back, they whooshed into the sky, spreading multicoloured sparks across the already starry heavens. There was also a small, square-ish box, with a fuse sticking out the top. Once almost all of the rockets had gone, Thursday went over to light this last fuse. He bent over, watching the belatedly-lit fuse rise slowly, and struggled to strike first one match, then two. Almost as the fuse reached the rocket, Morse ran forward with another box of matches and brandished a flame, lighting the fuse. Just as he did so, the last rocket went off with a bang a foot away from him and he leapt back into Thursday, both of them stumbling. However, the DI recovered quick enough to catch Morse, and hauled both of them out the way as the big pack started fizzing and sparking. Thursday could feel Morse was shaking, quivering all over, and quietly pulled him round the side of the house whilst everyone else watched the fireworks. Snow was still thick on the ground here, almost up to Morse's ankles, but he found it grounding. Around the corner the noise of the display was still loud, but not quite as bad. He leant out his arm against the wall, and tried to breathe deeply. Thursday put a comforting hand on his bagman's shoulder.

          "Just a firework, Morse, nothing to worry about…" he soothed, "…all over now." he added, hearing a last cheer and the sound of people returning to the house.

Morse still didn't speak, so Thursday tried a different tack.

          "How was work without me?"

Morse coughed a couple of times, then spoke, voice wobbly. "We had a missing persons case, a- a child, but we- we found her." He unknowingly touched the spot on his head where he'd been hit. "However, her father DeBryn first."

          "He jumped in front of me." DeBryn was standing at the end of the passageway. "Took the first hit, you might say. He already had a touch of hypothermia before that."

Thursday looked back to Morse, who had moved away from the wall and was now looking apologetic. "I thought he might do anything, and my theory was correct." Morse said. "I couldn't let you get hit."

          "Thank you, but not next time." DeBryn said. "I'm perfectly capable of defending myself."

          "Hopefully it won't get to that stage, next time." Thursday said. "Come on, let's get inside, it's almost midnight."

The trio moved inside, and instantly had drinks pressed on them by Mrs Thursday.

          "Hurry up, you're only just in time for the countdown!"

As the crackly radio voice counted down, cheered on by tens of voices inside the house, hundreds across the city, and thousands across the country, the new year was welcomed in with family, friends, and familiar faces by all. 'Happy New Year!' a country of people chanted, as the clock struck midnight, and the New Year was born.

**Author's Note:**

> this was so rushed you would not believe. i'm so sorry about debryn in this, it think he sounds super ooc also sorry about the length, i went a bit overboard
> 
> Hey there! This is just a quick New Year's commission thing from when I was bored at Christmas, so enjoy, and Happy New Year to everyone reading this :D Feel free to critique my work, I need all the advice I can get :) ~Cosmo
> 
> [Crossposted on Tumblr: @carryon-writing]


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